


Truly, Madly, Deeply

by Lupin111



Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-25
Updated: 2016-01-25
Packaged: 2018-05-16 02:10:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 12,953
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5809609
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lupin111/pseuds/Lupin111
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU after S3E7</p><p>An introspective journey with Justin.</p><p>Beware, here be angst.</p><p>Beta by Xrifree</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> DISCLAIMER: I don't own QAF, the characters…blah blah blah. You know the drill. If I had any right over these characters, the finale would have never have happened.

I’m pretty sure that even Debbie would have gotten tired of my drama, if I had made my way back there. I couldn’t stay at Daphne’s forever. Served me right. This is what happens when you depend on a man for all the necessities of life. A very important lesson that teenage girls are slowly being taught; someone should include gay guys into the target market for that particular PSA. From Dad’s to Brian’s to Debbie’s to sort-of Brian’s to Ethan’s to Daphne’s. And the housing crisis was the least of my problems.

I needed to grow up. I needed to sort my life out. The question was how the fuck to even begin doing that.

I saw Brian watching me as I fucked that guy last night. To be honest, watching Brian watch me was the biggest turn-on of the evening. Or maybe even the whole month. Not that I’m keeping track. Anyway. If last night didn’t tell Brian what was going on (or not going on) in my relationship with Ethan, his caustic probing at the diner this morning certainly did.

What I told Daphne wasn’t a lie; leaving Brian _was_ a terrible mistake. But…at the same time, it wasn’t. I loved Brian. Even when I was with Ethan…I mean, who am I kidding? I’ll _always_ be in love with Brian. First love, last love…not total bullshit, as it turns out. But what the fuck good was that? Brian didn’t love me. I mean, ok, he did. Sort of. Maybe. Who in the fuck knew. Maybe I shared some exalted space with Michael and Lindsay, as the chosen lucky few. All I know is that Brian cares about me, a lot. Enough to pay for my tuition, even after I left him.

But he didn’t care enough about me to ask me to stay. To stop tricking. To stop fucking around with every gay man in north eastern United States. I didn’t care what Michael said about Brian loving me and blah blah blah. At the end of the day, whatever he felt, it wasn’t enough to make him want to give me what I wanted.

And what I wanted was for him to want only me.

I wanted him to say that he loves me. That being with me is enough. But he’s never going to say that. So…I had to live life my life on his terms. Or…

Or.

I had to figure out that ‘or’.

Someone told me that a man knows when to ask for help. Ok, ok. We all know who said it; no need to dwell on people I can never have.

First things first. I needed a proper place to live.

 

  1. Rent a place on my own
  2. Debbie
  3. Brian
  4. Mom
  5. Mel & Lindz
  6. Daphne



 

The list pretty much ended there. The sum total of my life was one friend, one parent, and a host of people related to Brian. Whose name was the first to be crossed off the list. Bad enough things are what they are between us, bad enough he is paying for tuition…I couldn’t as well ask him to sort out every other aspect of my life, especially seeing as how this entire mess was utterly foreseeable.

I _knew_ who Brian was, I knew who dad was, I sure as fuck knew that I was just seventeen. Eighteen. Whatever. If I swallowed my principles, and wanting to be with Brian, maybe a business-arts double major at Dartmouth…

But noooo. I had to go and be myself.

Anyway. I’m getting distracted.

 

  1. Rent a place on my own
  2. Debbie
  3. Mom
  4. Mel & Lindz
  5. Daphne



 

Mel and Lindz were expecting their second child, and it wouldn’t have been fair to them in any event, to pitch them as a wall between myself and Brian. Besides, with Lindz _and_ Gus there, he’d be in and out of that house. Ditto for Debbie.

 

  1. Rent a place on my own
  2. Mom
  3. Daphne



 

I couldn’t stay in Daphne’s dorm room forever…maybe we could share an apartment, if I could make the money work and she started the next semester.

Or maybe, I needed to save every little penny, because I’m not some rich kid with a safety net anymore.

I moved into Mom’s with as little fanfare as possible. I didn’t tell a soul. Well, except for Daphne, obviously. Not even Debbie. I think she thought I was still living with Ethan. Everyone thought that, and I let them think that.

Well, until Brian fucking ruined it.

Debbie was there. I think Emmett was there, but I honestly can’t remember. Pregnant Melanie and newly working Lindsay were there.

Debbie started it. She told me to take the night off. To go have fun with Ethan. I just thanked her for the night off. I was so casual about the whole thing.

“So you made up with the fiddler? White picket fences and eternity are back on the menu then? Congratulations.”

I wanted to fucking kill him.

“Aw, Sunshine, did you and Ethan have a fight? Is everything ok?”

“Yeah Sunshine, _is_ everything ok? Did the two of you make up?”

I really wanted to fucking kill him.

“Ethan and I broke up, Deb.”

I really _really_ wanted to fucking kill him.

And thus started the outpouring of condolences from everyone around the table. Well, every _female_ around the table.

Brian just smirked. Leaned back, smirked, watched me squirm. Looked devilishly handsome, slick hair, fancy suit, check-mating me at every turn.

I was so mad at him. And so in love with him.

That’s when I knew. I had to stop seeing him. I would end up doing something, saying something, and I’d end up back in his bed. And the same old story would start. Brian would fuck me, he’d also fuck every other guy in the Pennsylvania, and he would give me just enough to keep me coming back for more.

At the end of the day, it was deceptively easy. No one came to Mom’s place. She lived across town. I lived so far from Liberty Avenue – and Tremont Street – running into the ‘gang’ was not bloody likely, unless I did it on purpose.

I stopped going to Babylon. I stopped going to Woody’s. Emmett asked me once why I didn’t come to Babylon anymore. I told him that it was because Brian was going to be there.

No one asked me questions after that.

I half (hoped) expected Brian to say something about that. He didn’t. I (hoped) figured that maybe no one told him why I was ignoring my usual haunts.

I didn’t want to quit Rage. But it was absurd to think that I could keep working on a comic based on Brian himself and still successfully extricate myself from orbiting around Brian. And there was the whole Michael factor. The idea that I could keep working with Michael and somehow be as far away from Brian was pure nonsense. Plus, it would be too much temptation for me.

So I told Michael that I couldn’t work on Rage anymore. I told him he could find another artist to replace me. I think he was mad at me, but I’m not sure. I think he might have simultaneously been mad and relieved.

I walked home after that meeting with Michael. I hadn’t expected it, but I felt hollow. Rage was my first…my first…it was _mine._ It was more than bringing somebody coffee; it was art, and it was mine, and it was fun, and it could have been the beginning of my career. It meant something to me. And now it was gone. All gone.

What a crock of shit it was, about love conquering all. Love didn’t change anyone. People were who they were, and you either accepted that, or…

At times like this, I wondered if I was making yet another mistake. I was so good at that. Would I grow out of wanting Brian to be happy with just me, if I stayed with him long enough? Would Brian change eventually, if he realized how devoted I was to him? And the bashing…we both went through so much together, and he has done so much for me, and was I just being an unrealistic son of a bitch by wanting more than what the world could give me?

But…he hadn’t change. And I hadn’t stop wanting him to. I mean, l loved him for who he was, his fuck-the-world attitude, but I had always been fighting for the top spot when it came to him. Whether it was trying to steal his tricks, or King of Babylon nipple rings or whatever…it was all so he wouldn’t _want_ anyone else.

And yet, he still wanted others.

I would end up resenting it, and hating him, and loving him, all at the same time. I would end up driving him crazy, and driving myself crazy.

If I wasn’t sure that I could be happy with Brian’s terms, then I had no business hanging around him, hoping for heaven knows what.

I had to avoid the diner.

I got a job as a cashier in a supermarket. Across town. I told Deb that it paid me more. Which it didn’t, but, whatever.

I didn’t know what to do about the tuition. I didn’t have any money to pay Brian back. Neither did Mom. It would be years before I would be able to think about paying him. He wouldn’t stop with the tuition; if he paid it when I was with Ethan, he would pay it when I was without Ethan. Plus, his pride was involved.

There wasn’t anything I could do, so I left it. Stick to the original contract; pay him back with interest after I start working. Till then, I was taking his money and running, which was probably worse than…worse than something, I don’t know what. I decided to not think about it again until I had the outlines of a solution, which would not be for quite a while.

I started cutting down on my shifts, and after two months, I told Deb that I had to quit, because it was exhausting working two jobs and juggling school.

She asked me if I was quitting because Brian was at the diner.

I guess nothing is ever _that_ easy.

I wanted to lie to her. I really did. But I couldn’t. And, she’d never believe me in any event. So I told her that yes, I was trying to avoid Brian, because all of this was too much for me to handle.

She told me that Brian loved me. She told me that he would take me back if I went to him.

Hearing her say it broke my heart.

I _knew_ that. I fucking _knew_ that if I went to him, he’d take me back. I didn’t _want_ him to take me back. I wanted him to want to be with me. It wasn’t _my_ choice to leave. It was his. He practically told me to go with Ethan.  

I was the twink who never went away. And that was fine, for a while. Because I had grand romantic notions, you see. I thought that if I persisted enough, stayed long enough, Brian would come around. He didn’t.

No one saw me as having any amount of self-respect. No one saw me as having my own needs and wants that maybe should be met. Deb (and Michael and probably everybody else) thought that I should accept Brian’s terms and that that should satisfy me. Because Brian was limited in how he showed - felt? - emotions, that should be ok, I should accept it and settle for that and be happy. What I wanted didn’t count. Brian didn’t think what I wanted amounted to anything either; that’s why he told me to go with Ethan. He wasn’t even going to make the effort, what I wanted didn’t warrant even the effort.

Even Ethan. _Look how many times you forgave Brian_. That’s what he flung in my face when we fought. Because. Of course. That was the story. Brian slept with whomever he wanted, whenever he wanted, and little Justin took it, accepted it, forgave him for it, and moved on. That was everyone’s narrative.

What about what I wanted? When was that going to start to matter?

I told Deb that it didn’t matter. That I knew he’d take me back, but I wanted to fall out of love with him instead.

She cried.

I cried.

She gave me my apron and told me that she hoped I’d find my way back someday.

I wasn’t so sure that I would be able to.

I went home and cried all night.

 

 

 

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters and settings are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. No money is being made from this work. No copyright infringement is intended.

 

 

This story archived at <http://www.midnightwhispers.ca/viewstory.php?sid=3362>


	2. Chapter 2

I was watching a lot of television. My television watching was bordering on unhealthy. I wanted to paint, but it was hard, and I wasn’t inspired to do anything much outside of what PIFA made me do. It was just easier to watch _Criminal Minds_ in my free time. It was a nice distraction. I talked about the episodes with Mom – she sometimes watched them with me. It was like thinking, but not actually thinking.

That was my plan actually; to go through the motions of life, without having to engage my thoughts or feelings or emotions. I was so sick of thinking and feeling. Plus, I was afraid of myself, and what I would do if I thought too hard. I’d probably do something stupid. I _always_ did something stupid. So, _Criminal Minds_ it was.

Brian ruined my plan.

Fucking Brian.

For once, I don’t think he did it on purpose. I’m sure that I was the last person on his mind when he became puppet-master for Stockwell’s campaign.

In any event, he ruined my plan. I really tried to be disengaged, but it was hard to, given what Stockwell was saying and doing. I didn’t hang out in Liberty Village anymore, but I still read the news, and heard what other students at PIFA were saying. My blood started to boil.

Mom thought it was a fabulous idea that I started caring about something other than my own bad decisions. She also thought I should get a ‘proper’ job. I was _soooo_ smart, you see, that I could cure cancer _and_ AIDS, if only I would put my mind to it. Maybe she just wanted me distracted to death by the outside world so I wouldn’t think of Brian.

Suddenly, I was inspired to create art. Just not the kind of art people paid money for. I started creating anti-Stockwell posters. I started defacing the ones that were already up. Mom knew – I didn’t hide it from her, though I sure as fuck hid it from the rest of the city. She was…I think she was proud and disappointed. I could see the wheels turning inside her head. She was proud that I was taking a stand, but quite scared of the means I chose. I honestly didn’t care anymore.

Stockwell…just another homophobic prick drunk on power, creating a bogeyman and not giving a shit as to whose lives he ruined in his climb to the top.

It was hard to fight him as much as I wanted to though, given my self-imposed exile from Liberty Avenue. I couldn’t join community groups, I couldn’t talk to people there…there was so much anger in me that I was a walking, talking time-bomb. I was mad at Stockwell, at Brian, at myself, and my helplessness and idiocy. I sure as fuck was not a pleasant person to live with.

Sometimes I got exhausted by all the anger and frustration. I would sit in the tub with the shower running, and cry. Maybe Mom knew. Maybe she heard me. I don’t know. I hope the water muffled the noise. I just sat there and cried and cried until I was too tired to even move.

Sometimes, I thought about how absurd it was that I had to hide in the bathroom with the shower running just to cry. Did other people do that?

Sometimes, that thought alone made me want to cry.

Mom knew something. She came up with the internship idea, and she wouldn’t have thought of it if she hadn’t any clue about the state of my mental health. She suggested I work for Councilman Deekins’ communication team. He was the strongest contender who could beat Stockwell, and it made sense for me to be actively involved in his campaign. It didn’t pay much, but at least it made me feel less guilty for bailing on the supermarket job.

I think that job saved me.

I was so on the edge…I thought of killing myself. I thought of calling Brian and screaming at him. I thought of begging him to take me back. I thought of asking Lindsay for advice. I thought of going to Babylon and stealing all of Brian’s tricks. I thought of stalking him. I thought of telling Stockwell about Brian and me. I came up with all kinds of plans, and when it struck me that not one of them would work, and not one of them would make me happy, I curled up into a ball and cried. Again and again and again.

Working for Councilman Deekins was Mom’s best idea yet. It gave me something to do, it gave me a sense of purpose, and I wasn’t skulking around in the dark anymore, even though I still did that as well. Every spare minute of every day was spent on his campaign. Life became PIFA and the campaign office, and there was barely enough time to eat and shower and sleep.

I didn’t pay a lot of attention to the others on the team. They seemed nice. A lot of them were young, like me, or maybe in their late twenties. They were all so dedicated, and it was great. I didn’t feel like a misfit. But we talked about little outside of the campaign, and politics. Sometimes, we’d go out for a beer, and we’d still talk about the election, and Stockwell, and politics. That became my life.

I stopped crying in the shower.

A couple of times, I met Senator Baxter. She was nice to me, and Councilman Deekins said great things about me. Good old Senator Baxter, from the Gay-Straight Alliance days.

It was too painful to think about those days, so I didn’t.

Everyone knew I was gay, but no one hit on me. Not for a long-term thing, not for a short-term thing, not for anything. I don’t know why. I would have said no anyway – I didn’t have time to fuck around. I had an election to win. Daphne said I gave off a ‘vibe’. Whatever. It didn’t matter. The only thing that mattered was the election.

Daphne came and volunteered sometimes. Mom came and volunteered often.

We were going to win this.

I didn’t see anyone anymore. Who had the time, anyway? I sent Mel & Lindz emails. I sent Debbie text messages. I always responded five hours after someone contacted me. I didn’t want to get into real-time conversations. They seemed to be doing ok. Or that’s what they said anyway. We never discussed much – just hi, hello, how are you, fine.

Brian sent me an email.

It was just a one question email – _Why aren’t you doing Rage?_

I stared at the email. I drafted about eighteen different responses. I wondered why he emailed me. I overanalysed the email to death. I told Mom. I called Daphne.

In the end, I didn’t reply. I didn’t know what to say.

I wasn’t over Brian in the least.

I wanted him to send a follow-up email. I wanted him to try to contact me again. I wanted some sign that this was just a ruse for Brian to try and establish contact again.

Brian never followed-up on that email.

After weeks, I cried in the shower again.

The polls were close. The harder we worked, the more I knew that all this work wasn’t going to be in vain. We were the good guys, and we were going to win.

It was tough. Stockwell was licence enough for bigots to come out and play. He made their bigotry ok.

It wasn’t ok.

Deekins wanted me to come to an All Candidate debate. It was going to be a waste of my time; I’d be able to far more useful work at the office. I couldn’t say that though, so I said ok. Mom came with me; she could not be more proud of me even if I had ended up curing cancer and AIDS.

Brian was there.

Of _course_ he was there. He was Stockwell’s right-hand man.

I wasn’t going to go talk to him. No fucking way.

Deekins wanted me to ask Stockwell questions about his homophobia. What I wanted to ask him was whether his advertising guy had managed to fuck him yet.

I stuck to Deekins’ question. Stockwell gave a smarmy, useless answer typical of bigots like him.

Brian walked up to me after the debate, and asked me what I was doing. I told him that I was doing the right thing. He just nodded and left.

Mom told me that she was proud of me.

We went home, and I didn’t have a shower. I didn’t cry. I was almost proud of myself.

What was I going to do after the election? It had become my whole life. I thought about the day after the election, and it scared me. Often, I didn’t think that far.

I was kind of happy for now. I was part of something I believed in. I was doing work that mattered. I was helping, even if my own life was for shit. We were going to win, and life was somehow going to be better after that.

Deekins booked a bar near the campaign office the day of the election. Mom and Daphne came with me. The place was packed with volunteers, and for the first time in months, we were all too scared to talk. The atmosphere was so tense.

It was a close election. We came so close.

We came _so_ fucking close.

Deekins lost.

I asked Mom to take me home, and I started crying inside the car. I couldn’t stop crying even after we got home.

 

 

 

 

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters and settings are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. No money is being made from this work. No copyright infringement is intended.

 

 

This story archived at <http://www.midnightwhispers.ca/viewstory.php?sid=3362>


	3. Chapter 3

The sky was a beautiful blue, so I knew that it was morning. I had no idea what the time was, and I knew that I wouldn’t make an effort to find out for at least another couple of hours. Fortunately, PIFA was closed for the holidays, so there was nothing to interfere with my life as a potted plant.

I switched the television on, and stared at whatever they were showing. I caught a rerun of _House, M.D._ half-way through the episode, and I decided to watch it, since it required such little effort on my part.

It was like this most days.

I made coffee, I made myself a sandwich…often, I even made dinner for Mom and Molly. I didn’t eat much myself, though.

They made me do things. Taking Molly to the mall, and ballet, and the pool. Grocery shopping. Cleaning. Laundry. Often, I did these things without being asked. It helped, because the more I went through the motions, the less pitying looks I got.

Sometimes I read, though the stories were invariably too thin to be an actual distraction. I was so grateful for my self-imposed isolation; no one other than Mom and Daphne had to see me in this shape.

I wondered if this was a dream, and someone was going to wake me.

I was literally just watching the days go by, staring at walls, wondering what I was supposed to be doing. I imagined Brian often, creating all kinds of alternate universes in my head where things worked out for the two of us. I wondered if he ever thought of me?

I felt small. Like a teeny tiny speck of meaningless nothing. How did I lose my way this badly?

The election was quite some weeks ago, but it still stung badly. Thinking about it made me physically sick. It hurt.

On the plus side, the crying had stopped. I didn’t have the energy for it anymore. And everything had dulled. Brian, Stockwell, losing the election. It all still hurt, but it was dull. None of it was an open wound with blood gushing out anymore. They had all become chronic pain instead.

Sometimes, I thought of calling Brian. Maybe emailing him. But I never did, because I didn’t know what to say.

I hoped that he was missing me.

I managed to paint, though. Some people ate their feelings; I managed to paint mine. I suppose that counted as progress.

Sometimes, I stared at the wall, the ceiling, and the tiles for so long that I started seeing patterns in them. Shapes.  Animals. Faces.

This is how I spent my time, watching day become night, night become day, the sun going up, the sun going down...everything just rolling into one another.

Then I got a call from Senator Baxter. She had a vacancy on her team, because someone had gone on maternity leave. She liked me, Deekins had recommended me; would I take on a 12 month contract and join her staff?

It was in Washington, D.C.

Mom was over the moon. She was thrilled to bits, just assumed that I would accept the offer, and repeated several times about how proud she was of me.

Daphne was a little bit in awe. She also had the presence of mind to ask me what I wanted.

I didn’t really know what I wanted.

I wanted to be an animator. I wanted to be an artist. I wanted to finish PIFA.

But I was always a fighter, and I’ve always wanted to fight for the ‘right thing’.  Help other people. And this seemed like a great opportunity to do work that might actually matter.

Daphne said that working for Senator Baxter didn’t preclude me from being an artist; I would always be an artist, and I could and would always draw and paint and create, no matter what I was doing.

Which was true. Doing one thing did not stop me from doing the other.

I needed to do _something_. I had to find direction again, a purpose. I had to get myself out of the rut I was in. Maybe this was it. Move away from Pittsburgh. Meet new people, do new things. Maybe I would remember how to live again.

This would also be the way in which I stopped accepting Brian’s money. I would have to take a year off from PIFA…Brian never needed to know when I would resume, if I ever did. Maybe I could save enough money transfer to another school…New York or someplace far, far away.  I would start again only when I had the tuition fees, and Brian would never know.

And thus, I finally had a reason to email Brian.

I pushed it back. I was afraid of what he would – or wouldn’t – say.

I started packing. Not that I had much of anything to pack. Mom insisted on taking me shopping and buying ‘appropriate’ work clothes. I suppose that was required.

I boxed away so many little things – sketch books, knickknacks, and keepsakes. The only photograph I had of myself and Brian…somewhere at Debs, him nipping my earlobe. It was supposed to last forever, and now all of this was going to disappear into a basement. No one would ever look at any of this again.

But it would stay with me. It would stay with me forever. Sketching on Mel and Lindz’s couch. Brian eating an apple. All these memories would live inside me forever. Like a scar, that hurt when you looked at it. I couldn’t unthink Brian. I couldn’t undo Brian. I would always feel him touch me, kiss me…and I’d always love him. Try as I did, I couldn’t unlove him. I could only try my best to bury him to the back of my mind, and maybe think about him just a couple of times a week.

I sent Brian an email. Kept it short, but I tried to be friendly. Give him an opening. I said that I was taking a year off, and he wouldn’t have to pay tuition. I said that I was going to work for Senator Baxter, in D.C.

I prayed for a sign that he still cared, that he wanted me, and told myself to expect nothing.

Brian took almost a day to respond. All he said was:

_Good for you. If you run for office, I’ll vote for you._

That was it.

What did it even mean? Could an email be more impersonal than that? Fucking unlikely. I thought that having no response may have been better.

This was it, then. I reached out. I got nothing back. I guess Brian’s mind was made up, like it always had been. I had been a fool to expect something, just because I told him that I was leaving. We were already worlds apart, living in the same city. With D.C., we were really each going to go our own way.

Someday, love would find him. Someone would manage to melt his walls, break those chains, and make him love them the way they loved him. That person wasn’t Michael, and it sure as hell wasn’t me.

I hoped someone would.

I wanted Brian to find happiness.

I would always love him. Brian knew that. If he ever wanted me…he knew that.

Caught between heartbreak and pain, I had picked heartbreak.

Now it was time to say goodbye for good, and move on.  

 

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters and settings are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. No money is being made from this work. No copyright infringement is intended.

 

 

This story archived at <http://www.midnightwhispers.ca/viewstory.php?sid=3362>


	4. Chapter 4

Debbie, Vic, Mel and Lindz. They had all taken me in – in some form or another – helped me, advised me…they had all been like surrogate parents. They deserved a goodbye that was more than some electronic three-liner.

I took Debbie and Vic out to dinner at _Papagano’s_. Neither of them would ever treat themselves to such fanciness, and I wanted to do something special for them. It was a wonderful, bittersweet evening. Debbie drank a lot of wine. Vic was his usual acerbic self, and made me promise him his own suite at the White House, when I became President. They both told me repeatedly how proud they were of me. Debbie asked if I had told Brian, and I said yes, I had emailed him. I told her what his response had been and she muttered something, which I was a bit too drunk to understand. That was the only time his name came up. I told both of them that this wasn’t goodbye forever, and that I’d be back in a year and…deep down, I knew it was a kind of goodbye. Vic said that we were all saying goodbye to my innocence, and we should all drink to it. I told them both that I loved them like my parents, and that I was sorry about everything.

We all got drunk and Mom had to come and drive everyone back home.

For Mel and Lindz, Mom hosted a dinner. A fancy restaurant would not have been anything new for either of them. I insisted that they bring Gus, and it was very hard not to cry. I was there the night he was born. I had helped name him. I had watched him so many times…I had always thought of Gus as mine by extension, because of Brian. And now, there was no longer a connection to Brian and…I had no claim over his son. Melanie teared a little and blamed it on pregnancy hormones. Lindsay said they were both sad to see me leave, but were incredibly proud of me. I insisted that I would be back, but nobody seemed to take that seriously.

Saying goodbye to Daphne – my best friend in the whole world – was easier. I think we both knew that it wasn’t goodbye. We’d always be best friends. We’d always be in touch. Daphne had already planned a trip to D.C. for the next month. Still, I told her that I was going to miss her. I would miss her _so_ badly.

Mom and Molly came all the way to Washington to see me off. I had become so close to Mom…I had honestly never expected us to have the relationship we now shared. I wanted her to stay in D.C. I wanted it to be a new life for all three of us, not just me.

Instead, I told her that her love and support had kept me from losing my mind. That she was the best mother I could have ever hoped to have. That I hoped to someday reach the point where she wouldn’t have to worry about me anymore.

Mom said she had faith that I was going to make it.

I hoped she was right.

Fitting into life in D.C. was much easier than expected. For one thing, there were a million things to do here. Monuments to see, endless festivals, lots and lots of places to eat…and it was a remarkably gay city. Plus, I was all about filling my day with as many distractions as I could schedule. I was very determined to make the most of my ‘new beginning’.

Work was…it was different. It was a small office; everyone was friendly, and everyone worked their asses off. I did too.

It certainly wasn’t computer animation, and sometimes the work was a bit boring. Then suddenly, there were issues to research, community groups to reach out to, constituency matters, policy to hammer out, and there was no time to be bored. I disliked people in general; I knew I was generally snobbish and judgmental when it came to ‘other’ people. Still, I was thoroughly enjoying doing work that helped people in general. Kind of weird, but without a doubt it was what I needed.

Daphne visited. Mom visited. I missed them so much when they left. I told myself that this was what I needed.

It was still hard.

June, one of the staff at the office set me up on a blind date with Kabir, an international student from India who was here doing his Master’s. We went on one date. Then another. And then another. Before I knew it, we were going on a _lot_ of dates with each other.  

Kabir was the boyfriend from a normal person’s life.

He was a world apart from both Brian and Ethan. Self-confidence didn’t ooze out of every pore in his body. He was not uniquely talented in some manner or another. He was not painfully good-looking. He did not shower me in wine and roses and romance. He was normal in every conceivable way. He was smart. He was nice and kind and gentle. It was just so _easy_ being with him. I didn’t have to think much, there were no head games, no emotional manipulation. We were just two people who had a great time together. We had things in common. We had fun. We never really fought about anything; it was impossible to fight with Kabir. He was too calm, too rational, and just too sensible to fight. He said you were supposed to fight with governments and power structures and corporations and not people. Daphne said I was involved with a closet hippie. Kabir wasn’t out to his parents; he matter-of-factly explained that they would disown him, so he was going to find a stable job in the U.S. before he told them he was gay, and then they could say or do whatever they wanted.

I remembered what my coming out had been, and briefly fantasized about doing what Kabir had done. I figured that I didn’t have his disposition to have pulled it off.

Of course I still thought about Brian. It’s insanity to imagine that I could forget him. But, I didn’t think about him as often. Sometimes, I could go several of days without thinking about him. And when I did, I wasn’t in throbbing pain anymore. It was simply what it was. I’d always love him, care about him, think about him. So what? I could now get on with my life, be with other people, laugh, be happy and acknowledge that Brian would just be a dream. It was like having a cubicle job while dreaming of being Al Pacino. It was an unachievable dream. Everyone had them. Didn’t mean they couldn’t get on with life. I was learning to get on with mine. I was learning to be normal again.

Mom called me.

Vic had died.

I had to go back.

I was numb. It was just…death wasn’t supposed to happen to people you love.

Mom told me that Deb was in denial. I felt so fucking bad for her, and I felt guilty for not being there. I took a red eye into Pittsburgh, and wanted Mom to take me straight to Deb’s place. Mom told me to not be crazy and let Deb get some sleep. She was right, but…I would have felt better seeing Deb, and I had serious doubts as to whether Deb could get any sleep under the circumstances.

We went to Deb’s place before the funeral. Michael was there; I hugged him and we spoke a bit. I think he was too upset to really react to me. There seemed to be some tension with Ben and Hunter…or maybe it was just everyone trying to deal with Vic being gone. Who the hell was I to judge, seeing as I hadn’t been there for months.

Emmett was there, and he was relieved to have Mom and me as company. There was definitely tension relief for him, having more people there. He told us that Deb and Vic had had a big fight before Vic…well, before. They hadn’t been speaking to each other for a while, and Deb had been the one to rebuff Vic’s overtures. I felt so bad for her. The pain she must be going through…

Deb came down, and she was just _too_ cool, calm and collected. She hugged me, she hugged Mom, and told us that she was glad we could make it. The whole thing was surreal. I really wanted someone to breakdown and cry. Show some emotion. Because then, I would have been able to.

Instead, we all pretended to be stone statues and headed to the funeral.

It was so hard being strong all the time.

Brian was at the funeral. If he saw me, he didn’t acknowledge me. He was standing near Lindz, and I decided to just stay where I was, near Emmett and Mom. This funeral was hard enough to deal with, without Brian being thrown into the mix. Emmett told me that Brian had said something stupid the day Vic died, and Deb wasn’t speaking to him. No big surprise there.

Vic was gay before it became fashionable. That’s what I said. It was true. It wasn’t mushy. I thought it was something Vic would have appreciated.

Mom and I walked up to Brian and said hello. Instead of responding to the greeting, Brian said that he just said that it’s better to go out when you’re young in a blaze of glory, instead of when you’re old and diseased. I figured that Brian had found no one to whine to, since his fight with Deb. I pointed out that Brian might feel differently had he been in Vic’s – or Deb’s - shoes. Mom said all the conciliatory, diplomatic things. Brian mumbled, and then left.

It was strange how cold and detached Deb was. We all went to Deb’s place after the funeral, and the entire surreal experience continued. Brian didn’t come. Deb just bustled about, all cheery and happy, and it felt so weird and wrong. I tried to talk to her, Mom tried, everyone tried, but she was unflappable. And then she found a letter Vic had written years ago, and decided to throw a party.

Honestly, I was glad that I had to get back to D.C. that night. Yes, I know that was selfish, but, it’s the truth.

I felt weird being back in D.C. I had been in Pittsburgh for barely two days, and it had completely undone the balance I had found. Dealing with death, dealing with Brian, dealing with Deb not dealing…and I didn’t really deal with any of that. I just boxed all of that into a dusty, dark recess of my mind, and tried to pick up where I left off.

It worked, mostly.

I started calling and texting Deb far more often than I used to, because I was genuinely worried for her, and I felt so fucking bad for her.

I painted, probably worked harder than I had to, kept seeing Kabir and got on with life.

Betty was a slightly older lady who worked with me. She asked me to cover for her for a day, because her niece was having an abortion and Betty was driving her. Or something. I didn’t pay any attention to it because it wasn’t any of my fucking business.

When I mentioned this to Kabir, he became incredibly upset. I had never realized it, because we had never, ever discussed it before. Kabir was pro-life. Not in the crazy, hysterical, my-way-or-the-highway, limit-the-rights-of-all-women kind of way. It was Kabir. He couldn’t get hysterical, even if I had wanted him to.

He was calm, he was rational, he was respectful. He believed, deeply, that abortion was a sin and that it was something he, and those he loved, should not encourage or engage in. Kabir didn’t tell me what to do or what not to do. He just voiced his opinion and left it at that. I almost wished that we had argued about it. He was so disappointed in me. That much was patently obvious. He was so, _so_ disappointed in me as a person.

Daphne thought that the both of us were nuts. She wanted to know why two gay men, neither of whom would ever have to personally deal with an abortion, would risk their relationship over an ethical issue that would always remain a theoretical one for us. I thought it was something we could agree to disagree about.

It stayed on the backburner, but the way Kabir treated me changed, and that pissed me off a bit.

I got an email from Deb. I knew it was serious, because, come on. Deb sending an email?

Email though it was, it was still from Deb, so she got to the point almost immediately.

 

_Dear Sunshine,_

_Jen tells me you are finally moving on in D.C. and you’ve got yourself a sweet boyfriend who makes you happy. That’s great._

_But, Brian needs you. He told me he had cancer. He said he got treated, and he’ll be fine, but he doesn’t seem fine. He hasn’t told anyone. All these new clients he got were given to others because he was too sick to work. He looks like shit. I think hearing from you would go a long way in making him better._

_Honey, I know you two have your issues. But he is sick and he needs you. Don’t make the same mistake I made with poor sweet Vic. Call Brian._

_Lots of love,_

_Debbie_

 

 

 

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters and settings are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. No money is being made from this work. No copyright infringement is intended.

 

 

This story archived at <http://www.midnightwhispers.ca/viewstory.php?sid=3362>


	5. Chapter 5

I came up with maybe six hundred and forty eight plans on what to do about Brian having cancer. All six hundred and forty eight plans were equally terrible.

But…cancer.

Vic, Brian…life was _so_ unfair.

I couldn’t fucking believe that Brian had cancer. _Brian?_

Brian wasn’t supposed to get cancer. Brian wasn’t supposed to get _anything._ Brian was Rage. Brian was invincible. Brian was _Brian._

It had been months, but after I read Deb’s email, I broke down. I cried like a goddamn baby.

Brian.

_Brian._

I had to do _something,_ but I didn’t know what.

I hadn’t really spoken to Brian for over a year. I couldn’t suddenly drop out of the sky into his life. Mom told me to respect Brian’s wishes for privacy and not do anything. Daphne told me to take the next flight into Pittsburgh.

Neither seemed like good ideas. None of my own ideas were good, either.

Kabir told me that I should do whatever it was that I thought Brian needed, instead of what _I_ needed.

Brian didn’t need me. He had apparently gone through surgery and treatment without so much as a word to anyone, let alone me. The hurt I felt from that…it just had to be bundled away and stored in some corner of my heart that I was not going examine.

Yet.

Yet Deb emailed me. She must have had a better reason than some unrealistic, romantic expectation of seeing us get back together.

I called Brian.

I painstakingly made up a communication issue that I was supposedly facing, and then I called him. I called him at the office, so that he wouldn’t think that I was actually expecting an extended conversation. Cynthia put my call through almost immediately, and that stabbed at me.

Everyone wanted us back together.

God, this life was painful.

I was friendly, deferential, apologetic and eager. All I wanted the call to be was an opening to be able to contact him again.

Brian seemed surprised, but was matter of fact and helpful. I remembered Brian helping me when I tried to start the Gay-Straight Alliance. I wondered if he remembered. I kept the call as short as possible.

Brian sounded tired. I wondered if he was eating at all.

I waited one and a half day, and called him back with concerns about his suggestions. I made sure to speak to Cynthia about whatever was going on in her life before I spoke to him, and then chatted to Brian about Cynthia after we had discussed my ‘concerns’. Brian seemed quite okay with chatting, but I kept the conversation short enough to be believable.

The next day, I sent him an email with a few questions about my ever-increasing imaginary communications issue, and not enough information to formulate answers. 

Brian called me that evening. He sounded a bit better.

We talked about my imaginary project, and then talked about other stuff. D.C. Deb. Gus. Cynthia. My work. His work. I talked about food long enough to make an anorexic want to eat. Brian cursed me. Not wanting to overdo it, I told him I was exhausted and going to bed.

I waited two days, and then emailed him to say that I was coming to Pittsburgh to see Mom for the weekend, and asked if I could see him and go over my imaginary project with him. Brian said ‘sure, I guess’.

I dug up an old project at work, revamped it to suit my purpose, and headed to Pittsburgh.

I headed to Brian’s place as early as possible on Friday evening, with my ‘project’ in tow. Brian looked better than the picture I had painted for myself. I told him that I was getting over a bug, and that therefore I had brought soup for dinner. He complained about it, but ate nevertheless. Brian fell asleep on me mid-way through our discussion, and I tried to make him as comfortable as possible. The next morning, I apologised to him for falling asleep on him.

It wasn’t so hard to get him to have breakfast with me before I left. I told him he should come to D.C. for a holiday and not work so hard. Brian mumbled a response.

He seemed ok. I mean, I could see that he was not quite the same, but he seemed better than how Deb had made it sound.

I couldn’t make him eat and sleep on time from another city. All I could do was make him feel that he had friends he could share his problems with. Which he had, with or without me.

I wondered if Brian would ever tell me.

When I went back to D.C., I called him, and for once, we didn’t discuss my imaginary project.

I told him that I might be part of a small art show here with a few other people. Brian was quite impressed. He told me that I did the right thing by helping Deekins. We didn’t talk about the clients Stockwell had given him that I knew he had lost because of the cancer. He said he was working less because he wasn’t so keen on the horde that Stockwell had brought in. I didn’t question it, but noted that he should just quit and start his own place, and reap the benefits of being your own boss. Brian talked about the Liberty Ride- some GLC fundraiser. A bike ride to Toronto and back. It sounded arduous for a guy just recovering from cancer, but I obviously didn’t say that. I just said that it was a good idea, and discussed non-exhaustive training routines instead. I told him that if he was going to do it, I’d join him on the ride. We actually planned it to some detail, though I wasn’t at all sure if Brian would go through with it. I figured that it would be a great thing for his state of mind and emotional well-being, and if I were physically there, we could keep the physical exhaustion to a minimum. But, it was Brian. Who knew if he would really go through with it. We both stuck to our training schedule, though. At least I know I did.

We did this for a while, being phone-friends, sometimes supported by email. I didn’t know if it helped him at all. It hurt that he didn’t tell me, even now. It felt good for me to have him in my life again, but I felt a gnawing emptiness each time I thought about how much I missed him.

Kabir didn’t get jealous; there was nothing to get jealous about, seeing as how Brian and I were just friends. Long-distance friends who chatted often about everything except what we should have talked about.

Kabir told me that I was doing what Brian needed, which was being a friend.

I knew that Brian was more than a friend to me, but it didn’t matter because nothing would come of it. I just didn’t think I was helping Brian adequately. He had had cancer, for fuck’s sake. But it sure was good to have him back in my life.

And all good things must come to an end.

I was going to see Mom one weekend, and I told Brian I’d stop by his place. He seemed perfectly fine then.

When I got there, we had an epic fight.

He knew that I knew.

I had brought over dinner and movies. He tossed it all out, asking me if it was food recommended by the American Cancer Society. Asked if we were going to watch “Terms of Endearment”, “Love Story” or “My Ex Has Cancer”.

The gig was quite clearly up.

I tried to stay calm. Told him that he should have told me. Apparently, he didn’t want me to know, and it was ‘none of my fuckin' business’. I told him to cut it out, and that I cared about him and wanted to help him.

I _loved_ him and wanted to help him, but I thought that saying that would make a bad situation worse.

It made things worse anyway.

He laughed this ugly laugh, saying that I left once and should fucking leave again.

That’s when I snapped. I ground out that the only reason I left was because Brian wouldn’t stay. That if he had had the slightest inclination to make us work, if he had wanted me to stay, I would have. The only reason he lost me was because he threw me away.

Brian told me what I always knew. That he had never wanted me to stay. That I was young, inexperienced and stupid for wanting things that I couldn’t have.

I screamed that he was stupider than I could ever be. That if he had any fucking brains at all, he never would've let me leave. He would’ve told me that he loved me.

Brian got even angrier, saying that I was chicken for leaving just because I didn’t get what I wanted, instead of standing up for myself for a change.

For a change. _For a change._

He _actually_ said that.

I informed him that standing up for myself meant walking away instead of being the back-up plan for someone who didn’t want me and wouldn’t give me what I wanted.

He told me to get the fuck out, and he literally shoved me out of the loft. I was too shell-shocked to stop him.

 

 

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters and settings are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. No money is being made from this work. No copyright infringement is intended.

 

 

This story archived at <http://www.midnightwhispers.ca/viewstory.php?sid=3362>


	6. Chapter 6

It was Deb. She had somehow let it slip that I knew. Whatever. I didn’t blame her. First of all, she was Deb. You can’t _ever_ really blame her. Secondly, she meant well. She really did. I didn’t know how it had happened, and I made no effort to find out. It didn’t matter. Things were what they were. Brian was Brian. Nothing and no one on earth (or anywhere else) could change that.

I didn’t tell anyone back in Pittsburgh about the latest happenings with Brian. It was pointless.

There were only so many rejections any human being could take, even me. Brian had rejected me as his partner time and again, and now, he rejected me as a friend. Fuck it. If this is what he wanted, he was welcome to it.

This was the first time we had actually talked about – talked! ha! – voiced each of our thoughts on what had happened. I mean, even when I left Brian for Ethan, we didn’t really talk about why. Fuck. It had taken us almost two years to tell the other how we felt.

I told myself not to think about it, not to analyse it, not to give Brian another shot at wreaking havoc in my heart. I had to get on with life. I had to compartmentalize everything that happened, lock away my feelings, and move the fuck on.

And that’s precisely what I did. More work, more Kabir, more painting. I had a small show coming up. Technically, it was a joint exhibition with several other local artists that Senator Baxter had finagled me into, but it was a step forward, in the right direction. This was my life. This was what I had to concentrate on.

This latest round with Brian had rejuvenated me. An energy born out of anger had found itself oozing out of me, and I had to channel it in the right direction. I refused to wallow in my misery a second time round.

Still, I left the hard decisions for later. My 12 month contract was almost coming to an end. The Senator loved me; she told me that she’d create a role for me so I could stay on, or I could work for her constituency office in Pittsburgh. Or I could ask her to find me a similar role for another Senator. Or I could think about what the next step for me would be.

Later.

Later later later.

Sometimes, I couldn’t help it. I wondered how Brian was doing. I wondered if he was ok. I wondered if he was better.

I had to imagine that he was.

It had been weeks and weeks. He _had_ to be.

Speaking of the passage of time…Kabir decided that we had to break up. Rather, he decided that the time had come for him to break up with me. Supposedly, it was something he had wanted to before Vic. The whole abortion thing…our values didn’t match, and Kabir hadn’t seen a future for us together. But, he had thought that it was a bad time for me for a break up, with Vic passing away so soon after, and then soon after that there was Brian’s cancer…Kabir had wanted to be there for me.

I cried that night. I wanted the thing with Kabir to work out. I wanted to share my life with someone, and I wanted to be happy, and Kabir was such a good person and I thought…clearly, I thought wrong. Deep down, I knew breaking up was the right thing for both of us, but I still didn’t want it for me. Not now. I wanted to believe that I could have love and be happy with someone. I wanted to be wanted. I wanted at least one man to think, hey, Justin is worth sticking with. He’s worth being loyal to. I guess I knew that I was projecting onto Kabir issues with Brian and even Ethan. I didn’t care. I just didn’t want to break up.

We decided to stay friends. Kabir was such a good, sensible person that I knew we’d be able to stay friends. Which was something. At least I got a really good friend out of the whole thing.

Now I had one more reason to throw all my energy into other things. More work, more painting. I had seen so much of D.C. that I could have taken on a second job as a tour guide. Plus, I had a joint show to get ready for.

I was excited about the show. Just because one part of my life was a certified failure, didn’t mean that everything had to be. And I didn’t want to become the Justin who watched television all day at home again. That was scary. Something was working in my life, and I was going to make it thrive.

Mom obviously came for the show. Daphne had exams and wasn’t able to make it. We both felt bad about that, but, she said that there would be more shows. I privately thought that I wouldn’t have another first show, but what could she do? School was important. I certainly didn’t fault her for not being able to make it. Just ended up cursing life.

The show ended up being a _lot_ more eventful than I had anticipated. The entire office team came as a show of support. Kabir came as well. It was nice to have an ex that I was on speaking terms with.

Brian came.

I had no clue that he would come. I certainly hadn’t expected him to remember, even though we had spoken about it briefly. I thought…I thought he hated me.

June gushed to me about the tall, handsome man looking at my work, and that’s how I first saw him. Surprised as I was, I went to speak to him. Brian had consumed an unhealthy amount of alcohol already, I could tell.

He told me that he was here to examine the return on his investment.

The night went downhill for the both of us, very fast, from that point onward.

Who in the fuck did he think he was kidding? He was here to see me and my accomplishment! I was almost giddy with excitement that Brian had come, and I was almost equally hurt and annoyed that he wasn’t able to say that. Well, scratch that. I was a _lot_ more hurt than annoyed. That hurt led to annoyance, and I think I was spoiling for a fight.

Brian did not disappoint.

I circled him all evening. He was so drunk by the end of it. Or maybe he had taken something ‘recreationally’. I think that’s how the argument started. I told Brian that he had had enough to drink, and asked whether he was ok. He snidely responded that I had left him, so I had no business being concerned about him now.

That was when my annoyance started turning into anger, and the giddiness started turning into recklessness. Or gutsiness, depending on one’s perspective.

Once again, I pointed out that I only left because he never asked me to stay.

Brian screamed at me. He actually screamed, and it was a good thing that we were outside, and that it was late, and that most people had left anyway.

The whole thing was surreal. He screamed at me, saying that he had never wanted me to fucking leave. That he hadn't had a moment's peace since I left, so I should never have left to begin with.

As if this whole thing was _my_ fault.

He shouldn’t have pushed me away then.  I told him that. Well, maybe I was screaming too. That if he never wanted me to leave, he should have asked me to stay, instead of pushing me away. How the fuck on earth was I supposed to know what he felt or wanted, when he kept quiet?

It was so frustrating.

I think I was crying, I was so frustrated and angry. Brian was white with fury.

I told him. I told him that I _knew_ he cared for me, but I couldn’t be with someone who just _cared_ about me. I wanted him to _love_ me. Sure, I could have assumed that he loved me by his actions, but nobody wants to live like that, trying to guess at things the whole time by interpreting every little thing. Some things are important enough that they need to be voiced aloud, not fucking guessed at.

Brian was so unbelievably infuriating.

He said 'of course I fucking love you, why else would I have been with you?'.

What the actual fuck? Why couldn’t he have _said_ that before I left?

I was shaking at this point. Shaking and screaming. Screaming that I wasn’t a goddamn mind-reader, and that I couldn’t just sense what was inside his head. If he had wanted me to stay, he should have _said_ so. If he loved me, he should have fucking _said_ so.

Brian grabbed me from my shoulders. He was so close that I smelled the alcohol on his breath and the cologne and the sweat, and yet, none of that really registered at the time.

He asked me if that was all. If all I needed was to hear that. He said ‘I love you. I wanted you to stay.’

And then he asked me if I was happy. If I was _finally_ happy now.

I couldn’t think straight.

Or, maybe, that was when my mind was the clearest.

I told him no, I wasn’t finally fucking happy. I wanted a relationship with him. One where we loved each other and it wasn’t him, me and twelve hundred tricks.

Brian screamed at me, asking how the fuck he was supposed to divine that I wanted him to stop tricking, when I had never asked him to stop.

And I was frothing mad, saying he should have known. Which was so fucking stupid, because that’s what Brian had just told me. That I should have fucking known.

I asked him how I could have asked him to stop tricking, when I had always been afraid that he would simply say no. Why ask a question when you know what the answer will be?

That finally took the wind out of his sails. Even if I had had the guts to ask him, we both knew that he would have said no. His lack of a comeback confirmed it.

We just stood there, exhausted and spent, for a few minutes. I wanted to say something, but I couldn’t find the words.

Then Brian muttered ‘it wasn’t fucking worth it now, was it? Twelve hundred tricks wasn’t worth all this, was it?’

I didn’t know if Brian was talking to me, or himself.

I didn’t know what to say, because I didn’t know what he meant.

So I just stared at him.

Brian started staggering away.

Mom chose that minute to step outside, asking if we were ok. And I tried to tell her to leave us alone, but she got all frazzled seeing my tear-stained face, and by the time I managed to push her away, Brian had left.

I refused to talk about any of this with Mom. I went home and slept. I slept for almost the entirety of the next day. I was physically, mentally and emotionally exhausted. I couldn’t think or feel anything properly.

Finally, two days later, it all came rushing back.

Everything. Our fight at the show. Our fight at the loft. The last two years without Brian. The two years before that _with_ Brian.

I had made it on my own. I wasn’t a basket case weeping over him every day anymore. Still, I loved him. Having him back in my life just _did_ something to me. The energy, the passion…

I loved Brian. I had always loved Brian, and always would, whether I was with him or not.

And now…Brian had said he loved me. That he had never wanted me to leave.

He had been drunk. Would he mean it when he was sober?

If I asked him to stop tricking now, would he?

What did he mean when he said that twelve hundred tricks wasn’t worth all this?

I thought I knew what he meant, but I was afraid to hope.

I was afraid to think that maybe, just maybe, Brian and I still had another act left.

Maybe, just maybe, I still had the chance to share my love and life with the one person I truly wanted.

Kabir had been the perfect man. We had both wanted it to work, and we still ended. There was no cheating, there was no drifting apart, we were perfectly compatible. We still ended.

There were no guarantees.

There were just the chances that we took.

I had to know. I had to try.

I called Brian.

He didn’t answer.

For a whole day, I tried. And I couldn’t reach him.

I called Deb, and she told me where he was.

 

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters and settings are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. No money is being made from this work. No copyright infringement is intended.

 

 

This story archived at <http://www.midnightwhispers.ca/viewstory.php?sid=3362>


	7. Chapter 7

This is scary. Waiting here, waiting for Brian, without a clue in the world as to how things are going to turn out. I haven’t even planned a speech. Or a set of questions. Or…anything.

I’m almost beginning to regret being here.

Almost.

Fuck.

I’m scared.

Fucking Liberty Ride. There is no _way_ that Brian was healthy enough to go. I’m cursing myself, because we had planned to go together, and I would have been able to keep an eye on him. Instead…

I keep glancing at Deb. She’s been congratulating cyclists all day. It would be sweet, except I was annoyed as fuck that none of them were Brian.

It’s also getting dark, it’s getting cold, it’s snowing, and I’m really not dressed appropriately. Deb did not tell me that it was going to take this long. Brian should have been here hours ago.

When Emmett and Ted returned I wasn’t scared then, so I was nice to both of them. I’m sure they were both wondering what the hell I was doing here. Fortunately, they just asked about D.C., and yammered on about their adventures getting lost.

That just scares me more, because if _Ted_ can get lost biking from Pittsburgh to Toronto, Brian getting lost was almost a certainty.

Only when Ted told me that they got lost did Deb choose to tell me that on top of Brian deciding to complete the Liberty Ride, he was fucking injured. He’s broken his clavicle, or so she says, having heard it from Ben, who got it from Michael.

The stubborn sonofabitch has insisted on finishing the ride.

Jesus.

And of course, only Deb and I know the _whole_ truth…the cancer.

So now I can’t even plan my little speech to Brian, because I am way too scared about what the hell might have happened to him.

I’m so nervous that I haven’t even eaten a proper meal since I left D.C. Brian could be dead, lying in a ditch somewhere between Pittsburgh and Toronto. Who could _possibly_ eat?

On the other hand, he could just cycle to the finish line, ask me what I was doing here, forget everything he told me while drunk, and wander off with the hottest guy here. There’s always that possibility.

I’m catching snowflakes on my sleeves and looking for patterns. It’s something to do.

I think my keeping silent is annoying Deb, but, whatever. I’m too nervous to care. I’ve rehashed the last two years in my head, and shared it with Ben as well. None of that has helped calm the butterflies in my stomach.

Ben and Hunter came back hours ago. When the sun was still up.

At least Michael was with Brian. That gave me some amount of comfort.

Maybe I should drink something.

Only Ben, Hunter and Deb are left here now.

Ben and Deb are talking; Ben is saying that he cannot reach Michael, and Deb’s saying that she started worrying hours ago…so it’s not just me.

I’m sick and tired of waiting around, so I suggest that we should go search for them. I don’t really care if any of them will join me; I’m going to go look for Brian and Michael.

Hunter is suddenly screaming at us to look, and indeed I look.

They’re here.

Brian.

He is cycling, with Michael beside him for support.

He did it. He _really_ did it.

Brian only has one hand on the handle bar…I think the other is in a sling. He is too far for me to make it out clearly, and the rapidly falling snow is making everything a bit too blurry.

Tears are pricking my eyes, and there’s a huge lump in my throat. I’m trying really hard to hold it all in.

This journey. Finding our way back to each other. It’s been so damn hard. Painful. Even when I had someone by my side, I was so lonely.

Learning to be on my own. Being somebody.

And Brian. Alone. Being sick. Making it through that, on _his_ own.

 And this ride…trying to prove to the world, trying to prove to himself, that yes, Brian Kinney _can_ do it on his own. Brian Kinney is a survivor.

We both needed to do this, the last two years of our lives. As hard as it was.

We, each of us, can do anything we want to, on our own.

But we are _so_ much better when we are one unit. Together.

I start moving towards him, and I can hear Deb telling me to stop, to let Brian finish. I don’t stop moving, but I halt before the finish line. I’m going to let him finish. On his own.

Hopefully, for the last time.

I’m standing, waiting.

Waiting.

Brian doesn’t see me. I can see he is struggling, and it’s taking so much self-control to not run to him and help him across.

He has to make it on his own.

That’s what he wants, and it’s what he needs.

It’s just so fucking difficult, watching him suffer like this.

Brian is panting, and breathing hard. I can make that out, even to this distance.

Michael is telling him something. Brian looks up, and I know that he’s seen me.

Deb, Hunter and Ben are cheering.

I can’t. I’m just…I can’t. I can only manage to stay on my feet, willing Brian to make it across the line.

It takes an eternity, and each second feels longer than the last.

Finally, Brian makes it a few steps past the line, and we’re all there.

He just leans into me sideways, and I barely manage to hold onto his waist and keep us both upright.

He clambers off his bike unsteadily, still leaning on me, and I’m supporting both of us. I think Deb or Ben moves the cycle away, but none of that is really registering.

I want to hug him, but all my initial fear comes rushing back.

I’m too scared to hug him. 

Instead, I try to steer him towards a bench. Do something practical.

Everyone, even Michael and Deb, are keeping clear of us.

It’s just Brian and I, on an empty road, covered in snow.

“I was so worried! I could kill you for doing this.” It wasn’t the most appropriate thing to say, but I’m scared and nervous and angry and relieved, and coherence is the best I can do.

“Yeah, well, I almost saved you the trouble” Brian mumbles.

We’re so close, in this semi-non-hug.

“Are you ok? This excellent adventure of yours…are you ok?” I’m at a loss on what I should say or do.

Really, I just want to take him home and put him in bed and lie down next to him, but I know that I can’t do that.

Brian finally looks at me. Really looks at me.

“Bicycling down life's endless highways, I had time to think.”

“Oh?” That’s all I can say. I came here to talk to him, because I had to know. But Brian is trying to tell me something. I want to let him. My questions can wait.

“About what I'd do differently if I survived cancer and sleeping in a tent.”

I’m so nervous that I’m holding my breath in. “Equally unpleasant, I agree. But now that you have, what did you decide?”

“The first thing I'd do differently is the bedroom. Get rid of that thing over the bed.”

“Yeah, it's very '90s.”

Courage, my love.

Work your way to it.

I’m going to wait here all night in the snow, if that’s how long it will take Brian to tell me what he is trying to get to.

“And then I'd like to spend more time with my son. He's at an age now where he needs a strong, masculine influence. Especially being raised by a couple of dykes. I mean, he's got to know about Armani, Gucci, and Prada, not just football and engine-tuning.”

“Unquestionably. Any other decisions?” I want to be gentle.

“I want you to come back. Move back in.”

“Huh?” I don’t know what I was expecting, but it wasn’t that. I thought Brian might bring up our fight…he might…

“I said I'd like it if you and I were to live together.”

“Brian…we need to talk. About stuff. About us.”

Brian leans into me even more, grunting slightly, as he misses his step. I tighten my grip around his waist, holding him closer.

“Brian, are you…”

“For all the times when you weren’t around in the last two years…you should have been. Just fucking come back. I love you. I miss you.”

“Just you and me?”

“Just you and me.”

“No more tricks?”

“Just _you_ and _me_. No more tricks. And you are never to play violin music in my presence again.”

“I promise.”

“Good. Well, then what do you say? Should I make room in my drawers for your drawers?”

**THE END**

 

End Notes:

**A/N:** The title comes from the Savage Garden song 'Truly, Madly, Deeply'.

 

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters and settings are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. No money is being made from this work. No copyright infringement is intended.

 

 

This story archived at <http://www.midnightwhispers.ca/viewstory.php?sid=3362>

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story would not be possible if not for my awesome beta, Xrifree, who is amazing.


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